Choosing a Mistake
by SMKLegacy
Summary: Grissom, Sara, and "This." Response to 32105 Unbound Improv Challenge.


**Choosing a Mistake**

TEASER: "This." Response to the 3/21 Unbound Improv Challenge.

RATING: PG-13 for language and implied sexual content

SPOILERS: Through Season 5, nothing specific but assumes after "Compulsions"

DISCLAIMERS: I'll trade you my 1991 Honda Civic for a share of the CSI empire. Oh, wait, even with my MA Step 9 insurance rating at legal minimum coverage, the insurance is more than the bluebook value of the car. Hmmm, I guess since I can't currently afford a new car, the chance of me owning CSI or anything related except the plot of this story is precisely ZERO. That is such a sad commentary . . .

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews appreciated, archived atmy site (see my profile),and who's been spiking Grissom's coffee lately? How much do we have to pay them to keep it up long enough to fix "this" between him and Sara? First and last lines given, 1000 word limit for the story itself; according to MS Word 2003, I made it with 152 words to spare.

**CSI CSI CSI**

"**Perhaps it was a mistake." **Grissom pinched his nose between the index finger and thumb of his right hand and closed his eyes against the stabbing pain in his head. He heard rather than saw Sara whirl around toward him in the doorway of his office.

"Perhaps what was a mistake?" The low growl in her voice told him he had better have a good answer to his abrupt declaration. The door shushing home with a faint click emphasized the point; Sara wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

There were so many choices. Taking her out for coffee after the first lecture back in Cambridge almost 12 years ago now; taking her to dinner in San Francisco when he went to consult 8 years ago; asking her to come to Las Vegas almost 5 years ago . . .

No, those weren't really mistakes. He would do them again, and mistakes were things you wanted to go back in time and change, right?

He felt her presence next to him and realized she had come to perch on his desk. "Gris? You can open your eyes now. I shut out the light."

He blinked a couple of times to adjust to the low light, then turned his chair toward her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his lap, but he didn't think that would be received well even if it were remotely allowable. Instead, he stretched his left arm out and laid his hand beside her right thigh where it kissed the corner of his desk.

"So, what was a mistake?" Her voice sounded calmer, more like she was speaking to an upset child than a boss who could, with a single look, set off her pyrotechnic temper.

Back to that. Telling her in his own strange way that he thought her beautiful? Standing so close to her that he swore his skin would be blistered after shift from her heat? Calling her honey?

No, he wouldn't undo any of those things, given the choice.

Declining her invitation to dinner?

That he would undo.

And then there was that other dinner, the one he instigated on his own, even though he knew going in it was just as colleagues, not a date as his companion assumed . . .

He looked up at her, straight into those chocolate brown pools he wanted to drown himself in forever. "Two dinners."

She blinked hard. "Huh?"

"Two dinners." He took a chance and moved his left hand up to cover her right where it lay on her leg, dangerously close to a part of her body he only allowed himself to dream of in the privacy of his own home.

He smiled when he heard her hitch a breath as though fighting for control. "You'll have to explain that one, Gris."

"One was the dinner I did have, with Sophia."

Sara's face wrinkled in what he recognized as distaste. He knew she and Sophia were working better together, but they would never be as close even as Sara and Catherine – and at the moment, he knew, that wasn't a warm, fuzzy relationship. "When was that?"

"About six weeks ago. Just to get to know her, since she was new on the team. She misinterpreted."

"Hmm, I can relate."

To his surprise, he heard no condemnation in her tone, just a banal acceptance. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Before he could decide, she spoke again, her voice sweet and low above him.

"What was the other dinner, Gris?"

He sucked in a breath. "The one I never had with you, Sara."

She stared open-mouthed at him for what seemed like hours but had to have been no more than five or six seconds. "Really?" Her whisper carried more power than any "come hither" look he had ever received.

"Really." He stood up. One part of his brain catalogued a noise that meant danger, but most of his conscious mind was so focused on getting the next part right that he ignored the signal and pulled her off his desk into his arms for a kiss that was 12 years and more overdue.

She was everything he had ever imagined and more. Hungry, pliant, frenzied, yielding, passionate, submissive, dominating, wanton. She tasted of spearmint and coffee, two flavors that would forever after this moment leave him wanting her in the most primal way.

Their dueling tongues finally released each other when oxygen became a necessity.

He panted for a moment before he smiled down into her eyes. "Sara?"

"Yeah, Gil?"

He pulled her into his chest at her use of his first name. "I know what to do about this."

"Well, hallelujah, praise the Lord!"

He and Sara whipped around to see Nick, Greg, and Warrick trying to pull Catherine back into the hallway. Nick and Greg each had her by a shoulder and Warrick had his hand over her mouth. When they succeeded, Warrick's long arm came out to grasp the outer door knob.

"Uh, congratulations, you two."

He and Sara laughed as **the door slammed**.

**Fine**


End file.
